


Keeping Up Appearances

by Razzaroo



Series: Ain't That A Grand And Glorious Feeling? [3]
Category: Black Cat
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 11:17:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razzaroo/pseuds/Razzaroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sven Vollfied retreated to his books after leaving the police force but, when an old friend shows his face, it's revealed that keeping up the appearance of normalcy is harder than it seems. Especially with a new neighbour who has secrets of her own. [1920s AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Up Appearances

Black Cat Books had become Sven’s retreat in these past few years. Passed down to him by a deceased uncle, it had provided the perfect escape from a police force that so deep in the gangsters’ pockets, even an honest commissioner with very long fingers couldn’t fish it out again.

He unfolded his ladder underneath the swinging sign and prised the lid off of a can of paint, brush held between his teeth. The paint on the sign was starting to crack and peel; the shop name had faded and the black cat that stalked above it was starting to look more like a cross breed between a tiger and a zebra.

It was hardly an urgent repair; it was all about keeping up appearances.

“Afternoon, Sven!”

He looked behind to see Lloyd on the pavement, leaning against the wall of the tailor’s shop.

“You’re looking better than the last time I saw you,” Sven said with a grin, putting the finishing touch on the cat before clambering down the ladder again.

“Less dead, you mean,” Lloyd said, “Thanks for dealing with that gang, by the way. I never did thank you before you left and upped sticks.”

Sven’s fingers found his eye patch, the one that covered the scars and the empty socket, “I couldn’t stay. And besides, Eve…”

“No need to explain,” Lloyd said, holding up his hands, “Trust me, I understand. This isn’t a job for everyone; I’d leave myself but, you know, I have a wife and a daughter and no inheritance to fall back on.”

Sven’s insides squirmed. He knew about the snakes in the police force, the ones who allowed their pockets to fill with the profits of moonshine and gangsters at the expense of the safety of everyone they were meant to protect. That had been part of the reason he’d left, retreating to his bookshop and his flat as far from the station as he could. He only hoped that Lloyd was managing to keep away from him; judging from the shabbiness of his coat, Sven couldn’t imagine Lloyd was lining his bank account with illegal money.

“So what brings you here?” Sven asked, reaching up to retrieve his paint can and fold his ladder. He nodded to the badge on Lloyd’s lapel, “Am I in trouble with the law, officer?”

Lloyd’s smile was grim, “Not you. We’ve had reports on criminal activity in the area; I’m the only one bothering to investigate.”

Sven cocked an eyebrow, “And you don’t think I’m involved, do you? Can’t imagine many gangsters interested in what I’m selling.”

He could hear the approach of a woman’s heels and Rinslet sidled past him to get to the side door that led to the apartments over the shop. He tipped his hat to her as she passed and Lloyd watched her with raised eyebrows.

“Friend of yours?” he said.

“New neighbour,” Sven said, “Eve likes her, so she can’t be all bad.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Lloyd said. The clock tower tolled the hour and Lloyd grimaced, “All right, look. I have to go; I have to go help a raid on a gin mill downtown. But I am going to be back, when I manage to rouse enough interest to clean this place up.” He glanced up at the window, “Tell your friend, in case he wants to skip town.”

Sven nodded, “Thanks Lloyd.”

When Lloyd left, Sven found himself wandering his shop. The bookshelves, tall and carved of oak, were stuffed with books, some new and some very old. The air was heavy with the sweet, dry smell of their pages and Sven could appreciate why Eve loved it so much.

“Don’t think I’ve been in this place before,” Rinslet said from behind him, making him twitch. He turned to see her leaning on the counter, “Always been yours?”

“My uncle's,” he said, frowning. She simply shrugged and toyed with the pens he kept on hand at the cash register.

“My parents have a store,” she said thoughtfully, “But it was a general store. No books, though my ma was nuts about the Bible.” She caught his eye with a small smile, “Small towns, huh?”

Sven frowned, “I wouldn’t know, though the city seems pretty small sometimes.”

Rinslet blinked and chewed on her painted bottom lip, “I guess so.”

“Too small to run.”

Her gaze was steady when it met his again, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sven tipped his head, “You know, we’ll be able to get on much better if you stop lying. A pretty girl like you doesn’t just up and decide to get a place in one of the most old-fashioned parts of the city.” He tapped the corner of his mouth in thought, “So what was it? Found out he was playing with some other girl as well? Was it the first time he hit you?”

Rinslet bristled, “He never hit me. He’s lower than an alley cat and a lying rat but he _never_ hit me.”

“Hmm, so it was some other woman?”

“No.” Her voice was ice. Rather than offer any sort of answer, she marched straight to him, her face in his, “And don’t think I’m the only one with secrets. I can get your little buddy put in the big house faster than you can say bushwa.” He managed to keep his face straight but something must have shown because her mouth quirked up in a sly smile, “Oh, you think I didn’t know? I met him; I was a gangster’s girl for a good three years.”

Sven glanced towards the stairs, “He never said.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Rinslet said and Sven realised that they were close enough that he could smell the sweetness of her perfume, “What did he care about someone else’s moll? It’s not something that you think of when you’re off killing people over shitty moonshine, is it?”

She muttered something else then, turning her head away so Sven couldn’t catch all of it. Something about not caring about your own relationship when killing people over moonshine and it was then that Sven realised.

“You’re not scared of what he _did_ do to you,” he said slowly, “You were just scared of he _could_ do.”

“Just like you’re scared of what your police friend can do,” Rinslet said and she pulled away, retreating to the back room. Sven followed, suspicious. She kicked the thin rug away, exposing the small door laid into the floor.

“Your point?” Sven said.

Rinslet crouched and lifted the door open. Sven heaved a sigh. She’d managed to find the stash that he’d put aside if Train needed to make a quick getaway; a coat, warm blankets, clothes, ammunition, pistols.

“My point,” she said, “Is that having friends in the police force doesn’t make you feel any safer than being chummy with who really runs this town, no matter how much you try to keep up the appearance.” She stepped over the rumpled rug but paused in the doorway, turning over her shoulder, “And I am much more than just Jenos Hazard’s ex girl.”

On that note, she left, banging up the stairs and into her own flat. Quietly, Sven closed up the hidden door and pulled the rug over it. He had to keep up the appearance of normalcy, just like she said.

But at least he had a name to give to Lloyd should he come asking around again. He had something to get the police off of his and Train’s backs: _Jenos Hazard._


End file.
